


Examining the Evidence

by novemberhush



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: And that's about it really, But definitely more fluff than angst, Except to say even when he's happy James is introspective, Luckily he has Robbie to pull him out of his head when he needs it, M/M, The Morning After The Night Before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 21:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: It's the morning after the night before and, like any half of a not bad detective, James is examining the evidence to make the case that, yes, last night really did happen. And not just in his wildest dreams.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I only recently began reading the fic for this pairing (and there are some wonderful, talented writers out there among you in this fandom), but I've watched 'Lewis' from the start and always been invested in James and Robbie's relationship, one way or another. Anyway, having immersed myself in the fic and begun a rewatch of the show (and found my crush on Laurence Fox once again surging up with a vengeance!) I just _had_ to write something for our Dynamic Duo. This is my first time writing for this pairing so please be as gentle with me as we all know Robbie would be with James their first time (which given that I've written him as a biter might not be saying much!). I hope you find something to enjoy here, and, sadly, none of the characters herein belong to me. Which is probably just as well for the sake of D.S. Hathaway's virtue. ;-)

  
The first key piece of evidence that caught James’ eye in the mirror, confirming last night had actually happened and wasn’t just some glorious, wonderful dream his fevered imagination had conjured up, was the deep purple bruise situated right where his neck met his left shoulder.

(And, God, how perfect was that? Deep Purple - the name of some ‘heavy rock’ band from the 70s that Robbie no doubt still listened to when he was alone in the car and safe from James’ chiding comments and reproving looks.)

  
Although, of course, James knew that ‘bruise’ wasn’t the word most commonly associated with a mark like that. No, ‘love bite’ was the colloquial term for it. Or ‘hickey’, as our colonial cousins might say. Dr. Hobson had even dubbed them “affectionate nibbles” once, if memory served.

  
Truth be told, though, James had never seen the appeal of such marks before. To be perfectly frank, he’d always considered them to be somewhat tacky. Vulgar. Distasteful. Showing a lack of class. Rank exhibitionism. The flaunting of an outward, physical display of what should have been the most private, intimate moment between two souls. Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.

  
Not to mention the disturbing inferences to be drawn regarding laying claim to ownership of one’s lover by stamping your mark on them. James had never wanted to be branded by something that might as well have read ‘Property of (insert name here)’, like cattle or a schoolchild’s gym kit, and he’d never felt the need to assert his own ownership over any of his (admittedly few) lovers in the past.

  
Now, though, here, today, examining the evidence of Robbie Lewis’ mouth on him, staking his claim and marking James as his, for all the world to see (well, if James chose to leave his top two buttons undone, anyway), he found himself having to revise his hitherto low opinion of love bites.

  
Now, instead of being relieved that Robbie had placed the mark low enough to be hidden beneath his shirt collar, James actually felt something akin to disappointment. He _wanted_ people to see it. To see the evidence that proved Robbie had been moved to mark him. Had been moved to put his mouth on James’ willing, needy, aching body and claim it as his. Claim _James_ as his. As James had been moved to do the same in turn.

  
He smiled as he remembered the feel of Robbie’s skin beneath his mouth, as he recalled the scent and taste and _sweetness_ of it. He smiled impossibly wider when he remembered that that skin had been offered up just as willingly and in as much need as his own had. When he remembered that Robbie had been aching for James in the same way James had ached for Robbie.

  
An ache that had been James’ constant companion for years now, and one which he had never held out much hope he would ever see reflected in the source of his own aching want. But which last night he had. The love bite proved that. But there was further evidence, if it were needed, to make his case. Evidence like the bite marks on his right shoulder and left pec.

  
Who would ever have suspected Robbie could be so passionate? Well, James for one. He’d known for a long time now that beneath that soft voice and mild-mannered, unassuming façade there beat the heart of a fervent, intensely human, vigorous man with an appreciation for life James found immensely appealing.

  
It hadn’t been immediately apparent, of course. A man on the wrong side of 40 (hell, the wrong side of _50_ ), jetlagged and, all right, James could admit it, perhaps just a little endearingly rumpled, in a cheap suit and frankly hideous shirt - well, it didn’t exactly scream ‘unstoppable sex machine’ straight off the bat, did it? So James figured he could be forgiven if he hadn’t instantly heard Marvin Gaye’s supplication to ‘Let’s Get It On’ the moment they first laid eyes on each other at the airport that day.

  
It hadn’t taken him long to start seeing Robbie in a different light, though. The fact that Robbie’s first stop upon arriving back in the country had been his late wife’s grave had told James right from the beginning that here was a man of great feeling. A man of devotion and honour. A man who had lived and known love, and somehow had the strength of character to go on living when that love had been cruelly snatched away from him.

  
And then they had embarked upon their first investigation together, finding to their mutual surprise that they were a good fit. The young, up and coming Cambridge graduate, fast tracked through the ranks, and the older (but never old, never that, not in James’ eyes), experienced graduate from the school of hard knocks, who had worked his way up the ranks the old-fashioned way. The Young Pretender meets The Old Guard, and learns a thing or two along the way.

  
Not just about how to solve a murder, but about how to live a life well spent, in the service of others, but by your own code. About integrity and compassion and understanding. Kindness, decency and that one tenet of his faith James could still cling to - loving thy neighbour as thyself. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that his new DI was the embodiment of all these qualities and more. James had never met anyone with a capacity for love as great as Robbie’s. From there it wasn’t a huge surprise to him to find himself growing increasingly attracted to Robbie’s actual physical body.

  
He had always been ‘flexible’ in his desires, even if he hadn’t always wanted to admit it, and more often than not physical attraction for him tended to spring from a deep intellectual and emotional attraction first. For James, beauty on the inside had always translated into beauty on the outside. And as far as James was concerned, Robbie Lewis was by far the most beautiful creation on God’s green earth.

  
It helped, too, that beneath that gruff exterior there lay a sharp wit. A dry sense of humour shot through with a playfulness that matched James’ own and delighted him at every turn. Robbie could make James smile when it had felt like he never would again. He could make him laugh like no one else ever had. He understood that James was by turns both serious and silly and he accepted both parts equally, even if the first worried him not infrequently and the second exasperated him occasionally.

  
Then there was that keen intelligence Robbie liked to hide behind a no-nonsense, down to earth, Northern practicality. That insight and instinct James admired and envied in equal measure. It had been the undoing of many murderers and criminals over the years, and it had played no small part in the undoing of James himself, intelligence an undoubted aphrodisiac in his opinion.

  
So while others, and none more so than Robbie himself (dear, sweet, modest Robbie, never giving himself his proper due), may have thought James’ attraction to Robbie somewhat surprising in itself, never mind the extent of that attraction and the deep, abiding love behind it, to James it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world.

  
He had always known that respect was one of the components of love, or that at least it _should_ be, and it hadn’t taken long for him to start respecting Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis, both personally and professionally. Throw trust, another constituent James found essential to the makeup of love, into the mix (and James had found himself trusting Robbie quicker and more wholeheartedly than he had ever trusted anyone, himself included, before) and really it was inevitable he had fallen for the man. How could he not?

  
And now his own body bore the evidence of that love being returned. He traced the bite mark on his chest lightly with his fingers and bit his own lip in an aborted attempt to stop the grin that was threatening to break out across his face from doing just that. It was a lost cause, of course. He gave in to the inevitable once again and let the smile have free rein. He felt like he might never stop smiling again.

  
Then warm hands were slipping into place around his hips. Slotting into the same position they had held last night and obscuring the final piece of evidence - bruises, in the unmistakable shape of fingers, on each hip. Proof of where Robbie had held him to him as his lips had mouthed at James’ neck and shoulders and back. Where he had clung as his tongue (that talented, talented tongue) had probed places lower down, before gently turning James round so they could look into each other’s eyes as they ceded their bodies to one another at last, finally following their souls into a surrender that saw both of them emerge victorious.

  
“What’s got you looking so happy then, pet?” Robbie smiled knowingly at him in the mirror, voice sweet and low, and doing nothing to chase away the smile on James’ own face.

  
“It’s just always nice when you finally have the proof you’ve been looking for for so long, that’s all,” James replied, fully aware of the effect his own voice had on Robbie. That had become _very_ clear last night.

  
“Oh? And what proof is that?”

  
“The proof that you love me,” James grinned, following the evidence like any detective worth his salt, running his hand down over the love bite and the bite marks to his hips where he twined his fingers with Robbie’s.

  
“Well, I’d be happy to provide you with more if you’d like.” Robbie pressed a kiss to James’ shoulder blade and he couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through him. He fancied he noticed a corresponding tremor in his lover’s grasp. “You can never have too much proof, after all.”

  
“Absolutely. It never pays to go into court half-cocked,” James purred, and he _definitely_ didn’t imagine the response that produced.

  
“I’ll show you half-cocked,” Robbie murmured with a grin that was positively criminal in its intent to steal James’ breath away, hand closing around James’ as he led him back towards the bed.

  
And, really, the look in Robbie’s eyes right before he produced a key piece of _very_ physical evidence for James’ _thorough_ examination was all the proof James would ever need from now on to know just how much he was loved.

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it. I hope it wasn't too painful for you. If you'd like to come say hi in the comments or over on tumblr, where I'm also known as novemberhush, I'd love to hear from you. Thanks for reading. xxx


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